Remember the relatively halcyon days, as recent as the autumn of 2003, when one could amble at will to the Passenger Ship Terminal on the west side of Manhattan to gaze fondly upon favorite liners (such as remain) and cruise ships? For those not fortunate enough to be sailing, there was always the excitement of close up inspections of the bow and the ship’s profile, or of the bunkering process, while leaning against the concrete wall connecting the piers at street level. Perhaps even better was photographing arrivals, departures and superstructures from the car parks up on the top level. From that vantage one could even have a vicarious peek at life on board via the shipboard announcements, views of embarking passengers and crew strolling back and forth, an occasional officer on the bridge wing and eventually the boat drill. Since the advent of the private balcony it had even become possible to glimpse cabin life. By staying long enough one could revel, albeit with pangs of envy and minus any fanfare, in the thrill of watching a ship (or ships) back into the North River, slowly turn, and proceed down river toward the Statue of Liberty.

Never mind the pleasures awaiting the ship buff in early May 1969, when Queen Elizabeth 2, then anticipated to be the last passenger liner ever constructed, was welcomed to New York following her maiden Atlantic crossing. In those days an embarkation was virtually synonymous with a bon voyage party. Who could envision a sailing without champagne proffered to visiting friends and streamers tossed to them on the pier later, at sailing time? For those not lucky enough to be on the passenger list or visiting someone who was, not to despair. A small contribution to the Seaman’s Welfare Fund, something in the order of 50 cents, actually got you on board virtually any ocean liner or cruise ship docked in New York. Once aboard you could wander to your heart’s content, savoring past memories or discovering a ship for the first time — or perhaps crashing a stranger’s party. Only when the ship’s whistle had given its three warning blasts and the announcement, "All visitors ashore! The ship is about to sail!" had blared over the loudspeaker, did you have to make your way reluctantly to the gangway. Back ashore you could join in the sailing festivities at close range, even appropriating an ill-aimed streamer for yourself.

Enter the age of terrorism on the high seas. In May 1972, just three years after her maiden voyage, QE2 received a bomb threat while some 1,000 miles at sea necessitating the dropping of bomb detonation experts by parachute. Fortunately the incident turned out to be a hoax, but a costly hoax with sad implications for the passenger ship aficionados of the world. Almost immediately Cunard Line banned visitors to its ships, and soon thereafter the other major shipping lines followed suit. Security was ratcheted up another notch after the Achille Lauro high jacking and notorious murder of incapacitated passenger Leon Klinghoffer in the Mediterranean in 1985. All of that notwithstanding, ship lovers and others could still visit the piers to their hearts’ content, even though getting on board now required connections.

The tragic events of 9/11 presaged a whole new level of concern and inconvenience, although enhanced port security appeared to have been somewhat erratically introduced and enforced, at least in New York City. Signs of an ominous new development greeted my husband, Mario De Stefano, and me in early April when we wandered south from the 79^th Street Boat Basin to the Passenger Ship Terminal (recently rechristened the New York Cruise Terminal) to greet Minerva II, making her maiden call on the port of New York. ALARM! A chain link fence enclosed the pier area and security personnel stood just inside the one open gate. As usual we walked in to approach the area where the ship was docked for a closer look. Although we were the only pedestrians anywhere in sight, we were turned away. After pleading and cajoling to no avail, including offering to be searched and to provide I.D., we inquired about the procedure for meeting disembarking passengers in the future. We were assured that that "would not be a problem." I made a mental note and promised myself I would check it out when Queen Mary 2 arrived following her maiden crossing later in the month.

The author and her husband at "The Battery"
as Queen Mary 2 arrived.

April 22, 2004 dawned mild and foggy. It was a day fraught with anticipation and excitement. For the first time in thirty-five years — and probably the last time ever — a true ocean liner was arriving in New York at the end of her maiden trans-Atlantic crossing. But this arrival was to be a bit different, what with post-9/11 security measures now enforced to the max. For starters, the traditional welcoming flotilla, including pleasure craft and excursion boats, was pared to official vessels, including tugs, fireboats, police boats and Coast Guard vessels. Those of us who had bought space on a special Circle Line sailing to welcome the new liner, for example, were deeply disappointed to receive phone calls a few days before the arrival advising us that the Coast Guard had disallowed the sailing. Regrouping, Mario and I arose at 4:30 a.m. in order to join other World Ship Society-PONY branch members at Wagner Park, on the southernmost tip of the Battery Park Esplanade, at 6:00 a.m. Fortunately not even heightened security measures could detract from the sight of QM2 looming out of the fog, all seventeen magnificent decks of her, or from the goose bump-inducing sound of the two sets of four blasts issuing from each of those mighty horns, including one transferred from QM2’s predecessor, Queen Mary. The fireboats, mercifully, preserved a modicum of tradition with their glorious spraying of the vessel in red, white and blue.

---

Once the Queen and her entourage had vanished up river, Mario went off to his office, and I — like Ted Scull, John McFarlane, Tom Rinaldi and Paul Klee — rushed to midtown. However, not having dusted off my Russian as they had to gain admission to Pier 88, where Maxim Gorkiy was docked, I instead boarded a NY Waterways ferry to Port Imperial hoping to glimpse the final stages of the docking process from the water. As we made the brief river crossing, a fireboat was still spraying off QM2's stern, where the armada of security vessels was impressive. The longshoremen were just managing to stretch the stern lines not back but forward to the end of Pier 92 — since the mammoth ship extended some 132 feet beyond the pier’s end — to tie her up!

Once on the west bank, as I sat enjoying the view of the world’s largest ocean liner through the daffodils, who should come along but Brad Hatry and Tom Cassidy. Obviously having been on the same mission as I, they were also there to meet the NY Waterways folks with whom they'd arranged the joint World Ship Society-PONY/Steamship Historical Society-LI Sunday evening charter to escort QM2 and QE2 on their historic tandem departure. I thought of hanging out until the fog had completely cleared (and until time for debarkation to begin) but gave up hope on the fog after an hour or so.

Back on the Manhattan side I climbed the bridge across the West Side Highway from the Intrepid Museum to take some shots of QM2 and the aforementioned little Maxim Gorkiy, with a propeller of United States in the foreground, before walking north along the chain link fence now surrounding all the piers. Queen Mary 2’s bow was so high that I couldn't even read her name from behind the fence! I inquired about where to meet passengers, my excuse to myself being that I could greet David Hume and Marjorieann Matuszek, John and Mary Maxtone-Graham and others I knew who were on board. In my heart of hearts, of course, I also wanted to find a way to get a closer look at that ship!

I was astonished to be directed to the warehouse/shed at Pier 94, north of Pier 92 where the ship was berthed. THE absolute worst I've seen in my thirty-six years of traveling by ship, worse than my memory of the old piers before the 1970s renovation, worse than the cargo terminal where Raffaello docked in Beirut in 1972. Just add intimidating to dingy, unwelcoming and ugly in the extreme and you have the picture. Outside the dimly-lit shed there were lots of chartered buses and limousines neatly lined up and plenty of security and baggage-handling personnel. I was standing on the limo side of the exit from customs, where all of the cars were parked with their opened trunks facing the exit, waiting for passengers to begin appearing.

One of the drivers asked if I'd like to sit on the rear bumper of his limo (wow! a load off my weary feet, plus the now-hot sun off my back!), and I, of course, accepted. Just as the passengers began emerging with luggage and in all manner of attire, around 11:00 a.m., a security hot shot throwing his weight around came over and informed me I couldn't sit there. I asked, "Why not," explaining that the limo driver had invited me to do so. He responded quite unbelievably, "It wouldn't look elegant for the passengers coming off QM2." I was totally incredulous, the whole scene being the complete antithesis of elegance. Nonetheless, I obediently moved and joined an interesting French/German couple awaiting friends from Germany near the exit from the shed from where I observed the scene for a very long time.

I greeted the Maxtone-Grahams, who were indeed astonished to see me, as well as Jack and Susan Fahy and their son and daughter-in-law. But no David and Marjorieann, who wisely, as I subsequently learned, had had only carry-on luggage and thus had managed to avoid the warehouse exit.

I'd also been watching as a steady stream of those not lucky enough to be headed to private limos or buses trudged back to Pier 92 to take the elevator up to the taxi-queuing area. BOING!!! That was it!!! In a split second, I decided to "accompany" some of the last of the passengers, at around 2:00 p.m., to their taxis. Thus, backpack and all, I breached all of the highly touted security and walked elated into the Passenger Ship Terminal! The taxi area on the upper level of Pier 92 was an horrific mob scene, with people piled up a dozen deep or so on Cunard’s red carpet, waiting for their numbers to come up. (And remember that by then, most of the passengers had already disembarked.) I found the Fahy family further south on that same upper [glassed in] level, waiting for their car. Susan kindly took photos of me, the Queen and the reflection — which actually made for some rather interesting photographic effects.

Frustrated by the reflection I took the elevator down to street level to see the ship close up sans glass, just as in the good old days. (The escalator was only operating in the up direction.) The friendly and security-conscious elevator operator asked me if I'd arrived on QM2. I replied, "No, just looking at the ship. See my pin from the original Queen Mary?" "Oh, that's nice," she answered. Down at street level, I immediately encountered a guerilla warfare person in camouflage and toting a huge machine gun. He smiled and gave me a cordial greeting. Walking south for a better view of the ship, my black backpack very much in evidence over my red turtleneck, I spotted a man on whose shirt pocket was embroidered "Bomb Squad." I approached him and asked if he would be so kind as to take a couple of photos of me in front of QM2. He cheerfully obliged, even insisting on trying several different angles. I thanked him, complimented him on his beautiful black lab and returned to the upper level.

By this time, travel agents and Carnival shareholders, including Ellen Meshnick and Paul Immerman, had begun arriving and were boarding for special tours of the ship. With the upper level of the terminal now a bit less frenetic, I photographed the flowers, signage, and Beefeaters with Cunard house flags hanging from their trumpets as they stood on the red carpet heralding the arriving visitors.

I decided to make my exit by taxi, partly because I was only 12th in line for a cab by then and partly because welcoming Queen Mary 2 had been such an exhausting ordeal that I couldn't have walked another step if my life had depended on it. Besides, I couldn't figure out any other way to get out of there, since everything was locked up to keep dangerous types like me out.